


The Thatcher's Son

by Masked_Man_2



Category: A Knight's Tale (2001)
Genre: Family, Family Feels, Father/Son love, Friendship, Jousting, No Dialogue, No Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 08:26:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2222292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masked_Man_2/pseuds/Masked_Man_2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yes, he had changed his stars, But at heart, he would never be anything but Will, the thatcher's son....</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thatcher's Son

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MrsCuddles (on FF.net)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=MrsCuddles+%28on+FF.net%29).



Thatcher. Will. William. William Thatcher. Sir Ulrich von Lichtenstein (of Gelderland). Sir William Thatcher (of Cheapside). How was it that he, just a simple thatcher’s son, had borne so many names? How had his stars changed so much, that he had ceased to be just a thatcher’s son...and had become a knight?

 

A knight! God’s love, that one word, that small, six-letter word, had all his life been a dream. A golden, shining dream, unreachable on its Heaven-bound cloud. A dream that he had embraced so wholeheartedly, guided by the scarred, sinewy arms of his father. His father, who had told him with such conviction that a man could change his stars.

 

His father...his brave, good father. John Thatcher. The man who had been the center of his world for the entirety of his childhood. The man who had been a guide, a teacher, a friend: a father in the truest sense of the word. They had been closer than mere father and son; they had loved each other with every fiber of their poor, wayward hearts...and John Thatcher, who had strength enough to lift an oxcart with unmatched ease, had wept when he had let his son go, off to squire with Sir Ector. He had wept, and had caught his boy in his great corded arms, and had smiled through his tears and wished him luck and farewell, and had told him once more to change his stars.

 

X X X 

 

And somehow, he had done it. Tragedy had turned to prosperity when Sir Ector had been killed and Will had ridden in his place. The sorrow he had felt at the sight of his felled mentor had quickly stirred a fire in his young blood, a fire that could only be tamed by the rush of solid horseflesh and the crushing strike of a lance. Some might have called it the fire of vengeance, but Will knew that the thrill of the joust was something more. It was true passion; it was destiny. It was the fire of shifting stars.

 

That fire had burned strong all throughout those grueling months that had followed. Two of his stars had slid into line when Roland and Wat had decided to immerse themselves in his dream. Success at the tournaments had driven more home. Chaucer, Kate, Adhemar, Jocelyn; they had all helped align more stars. His passion grew with the convergence, even when Adhemar tried to arrest him for competing falsely. He would not run. He would see his celestial path to completion.

 

X X X

 

It had been the sight of his father, still so strong even with his vision gone, that had started to push those last stars into place. To lay eyes on his beloved center after so many years apart, to know he had fulfilled his last promise, was the best feeling in the world. To take this man in his arms once more, strong young limbs held tight against ones that had begun to feel the frailty of age...there were no words powerful enough to describe the joy he had felt in his soul.

 

That final match against Adhemar had been fought in a fever of determination. He would see the snake driven to the ground. He would see his stars align, wounds be damned. To hear Geoff, bold, brash Geoff, announce him as Sir William Thatcher, as his dear father’s son, had given him the strength to end it all. He had stood over the vanquished Count of Anjou in a haze of pride, feeling as Heaven-bound as his once-dream as his stars finally transformed.

Sir William Thatcher. That was who he was. No longer was he Ulrich von Lichtenstein, whose entire existence had been been a lie. He was...himself...a knight...and a thatcher’s son. Yes, he had changed his stars. But at heart, he would never be anything but Will, the thatcher’s son. And it felt so bloody right.


End file.
